


Battle Born Boy

by berryboys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternative Universe - Black Mirror Episode: s05e01 Striking Vipers, Childhood Friends, First Time Bottoming, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryboys/pseuds/berryboys
Summary: This is the reason this game was created this way: so players could fulfill their fantasies without judgment, so that Mark could undo his pants and fuck into the avatar's tightness without consequences. It could be anyone, but it's Yukhei.And for some reason, Yukhei isn’t scared of that. His best friend opening his legs for him doesn’t sound deterring to Mark anymore; it sounds like a wonderful idea.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, sprinkle of renhyuck
Comments: 32
Kudos: 372





	Battle Born Boy

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi! here i come with another comm that got long, this time with a new ship!! thank you so much nicole for requesting it, i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> For those that aren't familiar with the concept, it comes from a (horny lol) episode of black mirror, but don't fear, there's no horror involved ♡
> 
> also thank you rome for betaing it! the mvp

Mark looks down at the box, a curious frown deepening between his eyebrows, and asks, “What did you call _this_?”

It's the third time he has asked that same question, but across the table, Yukhei doesn't show any sign of annoyance.

There’s a bright neon silver _Striking Vipers X_ stamped on the surface of the black box. It is, without a doubt, a special edition of the game. Expensive, limited. Mark can't comprehend why Yukhei would spend so much money on him; it's neither his birthday nor an exceptional occasion, and the gift settles an uncomfortable sensation of guilt in his guts.

Mark lifts his gaze to meet Yukhei’s enthusiastic eyes, and Yukhei smiles at him with his whole face; it’s a Yukhei thing, a habit that ironically has rubbed off on Mark over the years. He emits happiness and honesty through every pore of his body, and it’s one of the reasons their friendship has lasted for so long. Yukhei is generous and accommodating. He doesn’t take arguments as a personal attack or rejection as an insult. Mark has never been a troublesome kid, but Yukhei’s addition to his life was a ray of peace, a new perspective that made everything easier.

“It’s like Street Fighter, remember?” Yukhei chirps, tapping on one of the characters on the box. The cafeteria’s waiter turns up with their orders, a couple of americanos and a small strawberry cake that Yukhei will devour in a matter of seconds, so Yukhei halts their conversation to thank him. Only when he’s gone, does Yukhei redirect his attention to Mark with a questioning look. “We used to play in high school.”

Mark doesn’t need the reminder, even though this game is way different than their humble, regular version of Street Fighter. The game belongs to the last Virtual Reality series, and Mark has never used it, hasn’t even considered buying it because it was out of his budget. It's not out of Yukhei's budget, however.

Mark has heard wonders about the game and the technology attached to it. It’s as easy as latching a microchip onto their temples: the game is capable of bringing every single sensation in-game to their bodies, emulating real life to bizarre extents. Every touch, every hit lands on their real body, every word resonates into their real ears; they can feel, taste, see as if it was real.

In a few months, news channels have been swamped with stories of people developing a life-changing addiction, tragic incidents included. Mark can imagine the reason. Despite that, it’s a great gift, and Yukhei probably got it for him because Mark has spent the whole semester studying and they barely got time to hang out together.

This is a form of compensation, but also a warning. A clear _you’re neglecting your friends_ , and a small push so that at least he meets them inside the game. Jaehyun and Sicheng also have the virtual reality package, and Mark hasn’t seen any of them in the past month.

He understands that it’s tiring to chase after him while he frets over his duties and his girlfriend, never granting his friends a couple of hours in his packed schedule. His university friends might not resent him, but Yukhei has been there since elementary school. Being busy isn't enough of an excuse for him.

“God, Mina is going to kill me if I spend more time gaming,” Mark groans, but he can't repress the smile that spreads on his lips. He tentatively grabs the box and yanks it closer, much to Yukhei's delight. Mina has her own share of games, so Mark isn't alone in this issue – it's just that he's more prone to neglect. “You want me to fail Biochemistry this semester, don’t you?”

Yukhei shrugs.

“You can’t reject a gift,” he states matter-of-factly, and to be fair, he's right. Mark could reject a drink or a plushie or a compromising gift, but rejecting a gift like this would be rude even in the comfort of their life-long friendship. “Plus, you need to have some fun.”

Mark eyes Yukhei, a pout on his lips, and retorts, “I'm having plenty of fun.”

But it's not true. From the outside, Mark has a perfect life. He has great grades, a supportive family, and a girlfriend of two years that even his friends envy. There are no reasons to complain, except he's terrible at time management and misses being a teenager without serious responsibilities or pressure to catch up.

Perhaps Yukhei is doing him a favor: he's offering him a valuable outlet to forget about real life for a couple of hours every day. It might be dangerous for some people, but as long as Mark is aware that it's not an alternative to the dull parts of his life, he should be fine.

It's just a game.

“Come on, give it a chance,” Yukhei insists, even though it's obvious that Mark has already surrendered to the temptation. He knocks on the box with his knuckles, gaze overflowing with excitement, and proposes, “Let's try it this weekend, yeah?”

Mark nods at that, a mixture of reticence and thrill floating between them.

He’s certain that his first attempts will be terrible, and that the game might be overwhelming if he doesn’t prepare beforehand. Once he's back at in his apartment, alone, it will be easier to connect to the game without distractions. His flatmates – Jaemin and Donghyuck – go out almost every weekend, and their absence will give Mark some time to experiment with the game without embarrassing himself in front of them. He figures out that Donghyuck will steal the equipment from him at some point, but that, compared to letting Donghyuck laugh at him while he adapts to the new controls, is harmless.

Mark grins up at Yukhei and decides that, for once, this can be fun.

Even if Mark stubbornly tries to hide the box, sneaking into the apartment on his tiptoes and analyzing every corner of the living room to make sure his flatmates aren’t there, his bad luck overtakes him that same night. He dedicates his whole evening to Mina, snuggled up in her bed as they watch a movie, and though they only move to go out for dinner, by the time Mark arrives home, he’s exhausted.

The situation he encounters doesn't help. Jaemin and Donghyuck are on the couch, their TV screen full of saturated colors and the microchip shining on Donghyuck’s temple. They've sprawled the ripped box all over the floor, in pieces, and Mark is sure that disqualifies him for a possible refund.

Instead of watching the game, Jaemin is curiously observing Donghyuck’s reactions, but it's not hard to figure out why. Donghyuck is almost convulsing on the couch, and every time his avatar receives a hit, the game induces real-life pain in his body – it’s not the blows that make him move, but the fleeting pain that strikes him.

Donghyuck's suffering doesn’t look all that enticing from the outside, yet for a long moment, Mark aches to know what that feels like. Pain and adrenaline, not just frustration and tension in his wrists from the effort. All games have an invincibility factor, and that lessens the thrill, the commitment, while that simple microchip changes the whole scheme. Even though _Striking Vipers_ still allows them to revive a thousand times, every single time, for a while their bodies will assume otherwise.

Grazing the brink of death and coming out untouched and safe is an experience that they can’t have anywhere else.

“I should have locked my room,” Mark says out loud, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. “You two have no sense of privacy.”

Jaemin spins on the couch at the speed of light, eyes wide with horror. A giggle vibrates on Mark's tongue, since it's obvious neither of them expected Mark to catch them red-handed, but Jaemin's panic is only temporary. It's too late for him to cower and hide, or to save Donghyuck from Mark's claws, so he just takes a long look at Mark's semblance and shrugs in defeat.

“He can’t hear you,” Jaemin tells him, cocking his head to point at Donghyuck, who groans in that same instant. His leg twitches so hard that he bumps knees with Jaemin, and Jaemin whines. “Hold up.”

While Mark drops his bag by the door and takes off his shoes, Jaemin reaches for the microchip and, without any tenderness, he peels it off Donghyuck's skin. The screen glitches and Donghyuck lets out a strange high-pitched noise, confused by the interruption.

“No!” he yells, as though that will solve the problem. His perplexity vanishes within a second, the exact time it takes him to come back to reality and realize that Jaemin is the culprit. With a frown, he turns and starts, “Why did you-? Oh, Mark, _there_ you are.”

Mark rolls his eyes at the immediate sheepish, innocent smile that paints Donghyuck's features. He's used to the lack of regret Jaemin and Donghyuck display, though he admits he's partly at fault for indulging them.

He should have locked his room, however. That's undeniable.

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Mark asks him, and Donghyuck's smile merely widens. He pads to the couch, which makes Jaemin backtrack just in case, and points out, “What if you accidentally broke that? Then what?”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows at him, as if it's a useless question. “I’d put it back in its place and pretend I never used it. _Manufacturing_ defect.”

Mark opens his mouth, skeptical, but ends up looking at the pieces of the box in front of them. The snort Jaemin lets out by accident almost breaks Mark's composure.

“So,” Mark begins, shaking his head. “How is it?”

Mark jumps over the back of the couch to join them, tragically landing next to Donghyuck. The game is stuck on the menu screen, but whoever was battling Donghyuck has sent him a few messages and they're popping up on the right upper corner, full of insults and insinuations about Donghyuck's character.

“Crazy. Absolutely insane,” Donghyuck assures him, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied hum. “I kind of want you to get another one just to punch you in the face. It would be the biggest joy in the world.”

Unfazed, Mark rolls his eyes. It'd be a great way to solve their apartment problems: since they often bottle up their anger, they could just slip into the game and fight over who cleans the bathroom this week.

“I'd love to kick your ass too,” Mark croons, content, just to earn an offended shove from Donghyuck.

Even though Mark could confiscate the game and the microchip and keep them safe in his room, at this point it's absurd to do so. Donghyuck already shattered the novelty, and Mark is curious to explore the mechanics. He observes the screen again, looking back and forth between the game and Donghyuck, who seems to be in perfect state despite how he was twisting in pain minutes ago.

But before he can claim the microchip for himself, Jaemin places a hand on his thigh, pinning him in place, and bombs him with a prying, “Who bought the game?”

The three of them know that Mark can't afford it, so his friends' interrogation takes that direction. It’s not something Mark is ashamed of, however, and neither Jaemin nor Donghyuck have malicious intents. They seem surprised that the gift comes from Yukhei, and when Mark tries to justify it, Jaemin and Donghyuck simply exchange a long, charged look.

Mark has lived with them for two years, and he's reached a point in which he can detect those little signs of them having private conversations behind Mark's back. _About Mark_. He doesn't understand the connection here, though, because neither Jaemin nor Donghyuck talk to Yukhei that often – only when Yukhei crashes at Mark's place. They couldn't have possibly discussed Yukhei preparing a gift for him.

Donghyuck curls his arm over the couch and stares at Mark with skepticism, “What kind of friend buys this as a gift? It’s almost one thousand bills.” He flashes Mark an enigmatic smile. “What's next, a ring?”

“The kind of friend that wants to bang,” Jaemin unhelpfully provides, Donghyuck’s smile reflecting on his own face.

It's not the first time Mark hears these sort of jokes about Yukhei. They've spent most of their lives together, and that has always brought curious, uncomfortable questions. Mark is used to them. He has always thought that it's proof of how strong their friendship is, that it’s a blessing to have that connection with Yukhei. Denying that they're not dating, even if it happens too often for his liking, is just a minuscule disadvantage. The only problem he’s had was that, in the beginning of his relationship with Mina, she was reticent to believe him sometimes – as if Mark was using her as a cover up for his secret relationship with his childhood friend.

“Damn, is Yukhei still single?” Donghyuck continues, shutting off the imminent protest on Mark's lips. The tone of mockery unwinds and digs into Mark's shame, and Donghyuck prods at Mark's knee with his foot as if to hurry him up. “You should set us up.”

Jaemin agrees with a subtle tilt of his head, waiting for Mark's response, but Mark just grunts, “Over my dead body. I have enough of you two as it is. Besides, you know Yukhei doesn't swing that way.”

Mark expects them to put up a fight, since they always do, but this time they just gloss over his words. Donghyuck wriggles his fingers in Jaemin's direction, demanding, and Jaemin presses the microchip onto his palm. It's a chain: Donghyuck immediately brushes Mark's hair away to expose his temple, and after twirling the object between his fingers, he places it on his skin.

“Doesn't he?” Donghyuck says then, tone full of laughter. “What a pity.”

That's the last thing Mark hears. He feels the metal lapping at his skin, a torrent of streams travelling from the microchip to his pores. It's like a million needles seeping into his body, but they're not painful, and other than a strange wave of electricity and his rushed breathing, Mark doesn't feel anything.

The real world asphyxiates in the blink of an eye, and from then on, Mark is free.

Saturday becomes a red dot on Mark's calendar, and even though he only needs to wait a couple of days, time stretches into an eternity.

Both Donghyuck and Jaemin assure him that they won't be around until past midnight, since they planned a dinner with Jeno and Renjun that they don't want to skip. Mark wishes he could crash into the dinner with them, but he already agreed to meet Yukhei in the game tonight. The combination of commitment and excitement kills his doubts as soon as his friends disappear through the door, and when a message from Yukhei blinks on his phone, he skids through the living room to turn on the console.

Yukhei is already online, waiting for him, and Mark accepts his invitation right away. It's a relief that he took the time to explore the controls and the dynamics of the game, because Yukhei doesn't have to help him navigate through the first steps. Instead they talk about their respective days while the game loads, and Yukhei entangles him into going out next weekend with Johnny and Jaehyun before Mark can come up with an excuse.

 _Striking Vipers X_ , Mark has found out, offers a wide variety of characters, from revamped old characters to new characters that allude to popular references. He and Yukhei laugh at some of the characters for a while – there are bears, tigers with human faces and even robots – but in the end they settle for human avatars. They're more familiar with their set of attacks, and for a first time together, it's bound to be more fun if they know what they're doing.

“You're going to love my choice, dude,” Yukhei teases him, purposely hiding his character in the waiting room. “Don't get scared.”

Mark licks his lips and presses Start, and he's immediately absorbed into the scenario. It takes him an excruciating second to focus on the avatar in front of him, but even with the blurry image in his peripheral vision, he recognizes the avatar Yukhei picked.

Yukhei has chosen Cammy, an exuberant woman with two blond braids and a blue thong leotard that leaves little to the imagination. Mark is glad it's just her legs and ass on display, because as silly as it sounds, that's already enough of a distraction.

The game is way too realistic with details, so it feels like there's an actual woman before him, real flesh and bone. Since they choose Crystal Beach as a ring, she stands with the blue sea behind her, magnificent and dizzying. Compared to Mark's character – Yun, a slightly muscular man that, however, is wearing a cap that would better fit a high school boy – she looks quite strong. Mark precisely remembers they're pretty tied when it comes to abilities, so perhaps it's just the way Yukhei carries the avatar that sets the difference.

Yukhei – Cammy – evaluates him from the other side, her pretty eyes roaming over Mark's body with interest. His friend has played this game so many times that Mark's addition shouldn't spark any interest, but Mark doesn't ask. That arrogant attitude makes Mark boil with embarrassment; the bots don't have the ability to transmit such accurate emotions, but a human player does. Mark feels like Yukhei is devouring him through Cammy, and he can't tell if it's an intimidation technique or a natural impulse. It gets under his skin dangerously quick.

Between that and the attractiveness of Yukhei's avatar, Mark soon has to swallow the tight knot growing in his throat.

“This is so funny,” Mark manages to croak out. The voice of his character slips past his lips and startles him, which earns him an amused look from Cammy. This is one of the aspects he hasn't adapted to yet: hearing his own voice in a different color. It gives him a strong, strange impression of not being Mark anymore. “You move like you, but in that body.”

Yukhei laughs at that, but it's Cammy's laughter, something that Mark has never heard before. Their old game was way simpler than this, and it didn't include a variety of personalized laughs for each avatar.

“I could say the same,” Yukhei says, and one of his eyebrows arches with elegance. “I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.”

Ignoring the jab, Mark looks around Crystal Beach once again. The sea sparkles behind Yukhei and the sand caresses between his toes, the grains of sand rolling against his skin. It feels great. Real.

He jumps a few times to check Yun's mobility, to mold to this new body, while Yukhei does the same. Mark can't help but stare, because it's just a game, because his friend doesn't have that body or those curves, and he can't feel bad for allowing himself a moment of admiration.

It wouldn't be crazy to assume that Yukhei chose a sexy avatar just to fuck up with his brain. Even if he’s happy with Mina, they haven’t had sex in a couple of weeks, and Mark hasn’t had time to masturbate either. It’s not a surprise that he’s a bit more sensitive to a mere sexy character inside a game.

“Ready?” Mark shoots at him, sounding braver than he feels.

Yukhei nods at him, blue eyes and blonde hair and way smaller than he's in real life. It's right in that moment that a million questions run through Mark's mind, about Yukhei's strength and his obvious ability in video games, and about why he was so keen on gifting him this game. There are so many games out there, not so physical, not so visceral.

But then Yukhei jumps, Cammy twirling in the air towards him, and Mark doesn't have any time to process his thoughts.

The first obvious difference Mark discovers is that, in contrast to bots, Yukhei's blows are much more robust and intentional. Mark finds himself gasping for air within the first ten seconds, defeated on his knees, and he has to back away before Cammy can take him down with a final hit.

Yukhei sends him a triumphant smile, granting him a courteous moment to recover. Mark can tell that it's just a polite warning, one that won't last once Mark gets the gist of this.

It would be incredibly humiliating if Yukhei won in less than fifteen seconds.

“Come on,” Yukhei ushers him. “Get up, loser.”

To his own misery, Mark does. The pain doesn't last long in the game, so by the time he's on his feet, he feels renovated and full of energy. Yukhei is even more merciless this time, however, and launches at him without any sympathy, an entertained smile on his face.

Mark proudly stands his ground, taking in a few punches and a kick in the stomach that almost makes his life bar run out of points at once. Even though it's useless, he lets Yukhei grab him a few times just to revel in how the contact feels, fascinated by the accuracy. He needs to size up the avatar's movements, and that's the only way even if he regrets it every time.

Cammy's hands feel real on him: he senses every curve of her palm when Yukhei strikes him in the face, the solid line of her legs once Yukhei kicks his side and makes him bend over, and even the dry caress of her hair as she spins around and her braids run across Mark's face.

Mark's life bar is alarmingly low when Yukhei knocks him down, all the weight of his avatar tumbling on Mark, and they roll over the sand. Mark doesn't have enough skill or energy to push her avatar off; she tries to choke Yun, a last attempt at defeating him, and maybe because he knows that he's already lost, Mark can only think about how warm her thighs are around his waist. He's sure that Yukhei weighs more than Cammy, that his thighs are even thicker and could apply the same pressure around him; he can't reason if it would feel as good, or if he'd experience that same flap of warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Right after those thoughts kick into his consciousness, Mark stops breathing altogether. He's unable to counterattack, petrified both in the game and in real life, but his body trembles without control – and Mark prays that Yukhei will assume it's because he's trying to choke him, that it’s a consequence of the pain.

But they meet eyes, and it's a mistake. The fantasy of the game crumbles around them like a house of cards blown by the wind. Yukhei loosens his hands around Mark's neck and then, they're not fighting anymore.

Yukhei is on top of him and Mark's hands are on his waist – on Cammy's waist, but now he's painfully aware that Yukhei can sense every touch, every single thing they do inside this damn game. He's not touching Cammy. He's touching Yukhei. And even with that certainty on his shoulders, Mark can't repress the impulse of stroking down her hips, slowly, and down to her thighs, even more slowly.

Yukhei lets out a soft noise of surprise, wide eyes fixing on Mark, but he doesn't flinch. He should. They should. Even if Yukhei is in the body of a woman that can do acrobatics and kill a man but her bare hands, he's still Yukhei, and it's still Mark who's groping down those thighs, tasting every curve in the way.

Mark’s heart beats so hard that he can't even hear the sound of the waves crashing on the shore or Yukhei's breathing. He can only perceive the hot, smooth skin under his palms, and he doesn't know if this is Yukhei's warmth or a hoax, if the game can transmit those explicit details when they press against each other.

Yukhei parts his lips, a mute question in his mouth and a panicked glint in his eyes. Those are questions that Mark can't answer. His own confusion is the last emotion Mark understands before Yukhei moves again. Then it's all red, red like blood, flashing in his eyes and blinding his reason without mercy: Yukhei rolls his hips forward, grinding on him, and Mark feels the stroke right onto his crotch.

Mark's whole body lashes like a whip. All his responses are immediate and involuntary: the tension in his groin, the blood rushing through his body, further down and out of Mark's control, and the way he brings his hands to his temple in an attempt to detach the microchip from his skin. But he can't disconnect himself inside the game, and his mind twirls and twirls trying to remember how to get out. It's almost impossible to think with Yukhei on him, mouth parted in a quiet exhale, and all the things Mark wants to do to him crawling into his brain like ants.

“Exit game!” Mark screams, ignoring the fleeting terror that flashes across Yukhei's features.

That's the right command. Mark plunges into reality with a harsh crash, the world bobbing around him like he's in a roller coaster.

He can't breathe at all, not at first, and he obsessively palms his own body to make sure that he's not in the game anymore. The lights of the living room are off, which makes the transition much harder, but at last he makes out the furniture, the shining screen and the dim light coming from the hall. He tugs the microchip off too hard and hurts himself, but a tiny burn on his temple seems a meaningless problem right now.

Surrounded by the musk of his living room, it's easy to hide the blush on his cheeks and the trembling of his legs, but he can't conceal his panting or the terror that squeezes his muscles. He doesn’t know what has just happened. He doesn’t know why he touched Cammy like that, or why Yukhei played along as though it was _normal_.

Mark gives himself a couple of minutes to stabilize himself, to calm the beating of his heart. It doesn't work. His thoughts keep deviating to Yukhei as Cammy, to Yukhei himself. To how he's going to face his friend after this. Even through his avatar, Mark could see that Yukhei was scared of his reaction, but Mark couldn't stay there, couldn't risk making a fatal mistake that he'd regret as soon as his impulses had been satisfied.

 _Satisfaction_ , Mark realizes. That’s what he had felt while touching him.

Pretending that nothing happened is their easiest escape. They've known each other for so long that Yukhei should read his limits once they meet face to face, but Mark is too anxious to hold onto that hope.

Even if they never bring up the incident again, Mark can't ignore the tent in his pants, nor can he ignore that a simple word would have made him stay in the game. A simple _please_ and Mark would have gifted Yukhei all night.

Mark's hands are sweating.

Mina smiles at him, but there's reticence on her face, as though she can tell that Mark is hiding a mistake from her. Perhaps it's just Mark's paranoia. It's been a couple of days since he last talked to Yukhei, since they met inside the game, and Mark has done nothing but think about him. Even while Mina speaks about the mishaps of her group project for a class, animatedly explaining details that usually would interest Mark, he can only remember the scared spark in Yukhei's gaze.

The messages sitting on his phone wrap around him, asphyxiating his sanity, just like Cammy's hands around his neck. Yukhei starts with a simple _you okay?_ on the first night but it soon spirals into _dude, it was nothing_. _But we can talk about it if you want to_. _Please answer_.

But Mark doesn't answer: his fingers tremble every time he tries to type a soothing message to shut Yukhei up, and his cowardice eats his principles within an instant. He's always been a coward. Yukhei is the brave one between the two. Maybe speaking to Yukhei won't worsen the situation, but he's sure that he doesn't have any logical excuses other than an obsessive, incessant _it's just a game_.

And god, even if he had to pull down his pants and jerk off with a tight, solid fist afterwards, it's just a game. His panic is unfounded, childish, except that when he looks at Mina, her hesitant yet angelical smile, Mark feels like a piece of shit.

“You look sicker by the second, Mark,” Mina observes, voice tilting towards disappointment. It's evident she's a little bit upset with Mark's attitude today, and Mark can't blame her. They didn't speak much over the last two days because Mark made a point to avoid everyone and torture himself, and that was quite unusual in their relationship. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark manages out, but the pressure around his throat is unbearable, and he has to gaze away from Mina's inquisitive eyes. “Sorry, it's just- Donghyuck brought someone over last night so I didn't get much sleep.”

That's not a lie, not entirely. It's not the reason Mark tossed around in bed all night, but it serves as a justification for his dark circles and his neglecting tendencies.

“That guy-” Mina says, laughing. She shakes her head with a mixture of disapproval and amusement, and proposes, “You might need new rules. For example, not bringing hook-ups during weekdays.”

Mark closes his eyes, unable to repress a smile. It's a good distraction.

“I can't just tell Donghyuck that,” he points out, and Mina lifts an eyebrow at him, as if to challenge him. She knows that no one can control Donghyuck, however, so it's just her way to tease Mark. “He'll start doing it on purpose just to mess with me.”

Mina's gaze sparks with evil mirth before she starts ranting about all the ways they could take revenge on Donghyuck, but after a couple minutes, Mark's mind drifts off. His outer attention stays fixed on Mina, and she doesn't seem to notice that Mark isn't there, that his nods are automatic and programmed.

Mark wonders if he's cheating. He thinks about Cammy and her unbelievable body, her thighs and the curve of her ass on him. But the avatar moved like Yukhei, her eyes had a distinctive manner of looking that belonged to Yukhei; it wasn't just Cammy the character. It was Yukhei who decided to grind on him, and it was Mark who let him, who caressed the avatar's thighs and was swamped with a hundred indecent thoughts.

But it might be similar to porn. Mark hasn't gone out of his way to sleep with anyone else. For two years, he hasn't even felt attracted to any other girl apart from Mina. His friends have always made fun of him for that, assured him that being in love was one thing, but not allowing himself to look at anyone else wasn’t healthy.

Perhaps this is a consequence of his frustration accumulating in a pile until it overflows. He's twenty-two, libido in the sky, and he can't spend twenty-four hours a day in bed with his girlfriend. Just like he watches porn from time to time, there must be people who slip into these sort of games for some release – the only difference is that he did it with his best friend, not with a bot.

Yukhei was a girl in the game, and that's what must have caught Mark's attention. He's never liked boys, even though he gave it a try when he was a freshman and made out with Jeno at a party. There was enough alcohol in his system for him to deem it a nice experience, but he never felt the impulse of repeating it, and less while sober.

Still, he doesn't have the guts to tell Mina, to ask her if that's fine. Mark isn't cheating on her, because it's not real, because it's just a microchip inducing sensations in his body, and he doesn't want to incite her old insecurities about Yukhei.

Yukhei isn't the problem, Mark is sure of that.

Mark's chances to avoid Yukhei become non-existent that same weekend.

Despite the radio silence Mark dedicates him, he remembers that Yukhei roped him into going out with Jaehyun and Johnny. His friends made him promise that he wouldn't ditch them to study or to have a date with Mina, and even if he managed to come up with a different excuse, Donghyuck wouldn't allow him to stay home. Given that Jaemin and Donghyuck know he was meant to disappear during the weekend, they would ask too many questions, and Mark can't go through an interrogatory of that caliber without shattering under the pressure.

Especially when he's so close to shattering _without_ pressure.

“I wouldn't come back tonight if I was you,” Donghyuck advises him over dinner, face nearly drowned into his bowl of instant noodles.

Mark wasn't intending to spend all night outside, but that warning is still welcome. In the case he steps into the apartment to find a _situation_ , like they call them, he'll be ready to brush it off and walk to his bedroom with his eyes closed. It wouldn't be the first time he has to, even though his friends don't do it on purpose – it's usually just their bad decisions when they're drunk, which seems to make them forget every apartment rule.

Mark has had his own share of embarrassing moments with Mina, so he can't reproach them anything, regardless of how frequently Jaemin and Donghyuck skip the rules.

“Who are you hooking up with anyway?” Mark pries, not sure he wants to know the answer. “It's been too many times this week.”

Donghyuck smiles at that, and nonchalantly confesses, “Renjun.” Despite Donghyuck's composure, Mark chokes on his food, too shocked to repress his reaction. “What's with the surprise?”

Jaemin pats his back, trying to help him or just consoling him, but he seems interested in his defense too. Mark clutches onto the edge of the table until he can swallow and not choke again, and the insistence of Donghyuck's gaze doesn't ease the process.

“It's just-” They're friends. Renjun was straight? Mark is sure of that. He has no idea when his friends made this new development and why no one bothered to tell him, though given the frown on Donghyuck's face, his reaction might be the reason. “Nothing. Didn't he have a girlfriend?”

“Not anymore, obviously,” Donghyuck says with a roll of his eyes. “God, you're so- _judgmental_.”

“I'm not judging!”

“You are, you have it written all over your face.” Donghyuck drops his chopsticks into the bowl, and then leans back on the seat with his arms crossed. Mark groans, aware that he's getting into an inevitable fight with Donghyuck, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to take the news. It's not every day his apparently straight friend decides to fuck their other friend in common. “I'm sorry to tell you this, Mark, but I'm a better fuck than any girlfriend you guys can have.”

Jaemin snickers, glancing between them like he expects Mark to bite the bait, and points out, “Debatable.”

“Wanna debate?” Donghyuck challenges them. “Really?”

Mark shakes his head in a burst of panic, while Jaemin laughs and claims, “I wouldn't dare, Renjun would kill me.”

Opting for silence, Mark decides to ignore their chatter for the rest of the dinner. He doesn't mind that two of his friends are hooking up, despite how many problems that can bring them, but the fact that he never thought, for a single moment, that Renjun was into boys, bothers him to incredible extents.

Mark wonders if it's because Renjun never mentioned anything. He didn't have to, though. Donghyuck and Jaemin have taught him that no one owes him that, but Mark can't help but suspect that other friends might be keeping that part of them private, at least from him, because they fear seeing surprise on his face. Surprise might be enough to hurt them.

Just like Mark wouldn't have the courage to tell them what happened with Yukhei, Renjun might have been afraid of Mark's judgment. No one can protect Mark from his own judgment, however, and he's playing with disadvantage in his own field.

Mark is the last one to arrive at the bar.

From the door, he catches sight of his friends, huddled in their usual spot, involved in an intense conversation and, by the looks of it, already playing a drinking game. Mark's gaze roams over Yukhei first, as though he expects to see someone different, as though their little moment could drastically shift how the world paints Yukhei for him.

But Yukhei looks exactly the same, big brown eyes full of life and thick lips twisted into a constant smile. It's almost a reflex for him, and in contrast to the nervousness creeping into Mark's bones, Yukhei seems to be as alive and happy as ever.

For once, Mark can't tell whether it's a façade or not.

“Dude!” Johnny greets him as Mark shuffles towards them, his voice always a notch higher than the noise of the bar. “You're so late, like always. We'll start lying about the time only so you get here in time.”

He’s indeed quite late, since he spent half an hour considering if disappearing was an option, but Mark pulls a face at the scolding anyway. He dodges Yukhei's gaze just to land on Jaehyun's soft smile, and for a moment he curses that Johnny and Jaehyun sat together – that only leaves Mark the option of taking Yukhei's side.

“We already lied and still, you're late,” Jaehyun points out, and Johnny jabs his elbow into his ribs, trying to shut him up.

Mark isn't the least impressed at the fact that his friends lied about the time, so he huffs a weak, “I'm sorry, okay?”

Even though Johnny and Jaehyun disregard his apology, Yukhei leans over the table and slides his own beer towards Mark, slightly amused. Mark glances at him, tension seeping through his semblance, but Yukhei doesn't acknowledge his behavior. He seems calm. He's unalterable, that pattern that remains stable for the both of them, just so that Mark doesn't collapse.

“You have to catch up,” Yukhei orders him, grabbing Mark's hand and leading it to the beer. “I have a hunch you need it.”

Mark startles at the insinuation, but neither Johnny nor Jaehyun understand it. They must assume it's his regular stress, and Mark hurries up to gulp down the beer before they can start another round of drinking games without him.

Yukhei is right, because he's always right: Mark needs alcohol tonight. A normal night with some friends, who he can trust and won't let him hurt himself by accident, who will only laugh at him tomorrow if he betrays his own pride or doesn't handle alcohol well.

For Mark, it doesn't matter that the fountain of his stress is right there. Yukhei acts as the reason for his anxiety and his peace. Mark's mind can't shake off the familiarity between them because of a mistake. Rather than a life-changing incident, now that Yukhei is beside him, it just feels like a misstep. Like a petty fight they would have had in high school.

By the third round of drinks – beer and soju, besides a couple of drinks that Mark doesn't understand when Jaehyun orders them – Mark is floating on cloud nine, comfortably sinking against the seat and Yukhei's arm over his shoulders.

When Johnny proposes calling it a night, the bar is already half-empty and Mark has lost track of time. Yukhei has to tug him out of his seat, passing an arm around his waist so that Mark doesn't lose his balance.

Not even the fresh air awakens Mark, but he's fine with balancing against Yukhei and trusting that he'll take the right decisions for the both of them. Maybe because he's taller and bigger, Yukhei has always had an impressive alcohol tolerance, and Mark indulges himself these moments of weakness in front of him.

“You're taking him home?” Jaehyun asks as they stumble out of the bar, giggling. Mark hears Johnny mumble something too, and his friends laugh as Mark just smiles into Yukhei's jacket. “He's shit faced, watch out or he'll puke on your floor.”

“I'm fine,” Mark tries to protest, but even he can tell that it doesn't come out as clearly as it should.

Yukhei scoffs, and his arm tightens around Mark's body. “I'm only worried about the subway ride.”

The next thing Mark processes is that he's hitting the bed while cackling, even though he doesn't know whose bed it is or how he managed to get there. He lays there, muscles petrified and tingling with warmth until he distinguishes Yukhei's face by the edge of the bed.

In an attempt to reach him, Mark lifts his hand, but he's too weak to raise it more than a couple of inches. His tongue is just as heavy, and all of a sudden Mark wants to sit up and ask Yukhei why, ask if he's just going to ignore what happened the other day – if they will go on with their lives without a single word about it. He knows that it's the alcohol, but that outburst doesn't dim out, just digs its claws into Mark's conscience.

“Don't move your legs, I'm taking your shoes off,” Yukhei warns him, and Mark grins at the ceiling for no absolute reason. “Last time you kicked me in the face.”

Mark supposes he's in Yukhei's room, because otherwise Yukhei wouldn't be the only one caring for him. For a moment the memory of Donghyuck advising him against going back home crosses his mind. That's the only advantage of this ordeal, or so Mark thinks as he clumsily sits on his elbows to look at Yukhei; his friend seems to be much soberer than him, and that grants Mark some clarity too.

“Did you carry me to the bed like a sack of potatoes?” Mark asks him, voice hoarse. “Or did I imagine that?”

A grin invades Yukhei's face, but he jokingly replies, “Totally imagined it.” Then he glances at Mark in interest, and maybe because he looks worried, _warm_ , Mark's heart flips in his chest. “You're sobering up a bit.”

“Yeah,” Mark admits, since at least he's able to speak now. He can't stand the way Yukhei stares at him, however, that concern that is so evident that Mark can't believe he didn't perceive it earlier. “Water?”

Yukhei hums a positive response, and as soon as he leaves the room, Mark curls into himself. His heart is beating so fast that he must be sick, there's no other explanation. Never in his entire life has Yukhei made him nervous – not in this way – and he needs to get rid of the emotions squeezing in his chest before his childhood friend returns.

It's just _his_ Yukhei. It was just a game. And they stopped in time.

Yukhei quietly slips back into the room with two big glasses of water and then closes the door with his foot. Considering Mark's state, he suspects they might have woken up Yukhei's flatmates on their way to the bedroom, so Yukhei's attempt at being silent is meant to avoid a bigger argument tomorrow.

Mark follows Yukhei’s movement as he sits on the bed with him and hands him the glass of water, and they fall into a deep, meaningful silence while they drink. This is the situation Mark wished to avoid, but it was unrealistic to think he could maintain their distance forever. His life is so intertwined with Yukhei's that Mark's attitude has been plainly ridiculous, and that's how he feels now: a ridiculous, pathetic speck of himself.

Yukhei is the first one to break the silence, glancing at Mark out of the corner of his eye, head pointing at his own lap. That lack of confidence is unusual in Yukhei, but Mark reckons he has provoked this awkwardness.

“I don't want to be angry at you, you know?” Yukhei tells him, but for the first time tonight, the pieces of anger are latent in his voice. Mark sinks his face in the mattress with a groan, no courage to retort. Yukhei has reasons to be angry at him. “But I don't know what the fuck you've been doing. Ignoring me all week because of a game?”

The sharpness in Yukhei's words makes Mark flinch away. Hearing the truth shows how nonsensical Mark's fears are: his friendship with Yukhei belongs to the real world. Cammy and Yun are avatars that form part of a game. He's letting a fantasy ruin something real.

“I didn't mean to,” Mark admits, sending Yukhei a careful look. Yukhei’s attention isn't fixed on him, however, so it's easier for Mark to say the truth. “But then I thought about Mina-”

“What's the issue?” Yukhei cuts him off, offended. He snaps his head towards Mark at last, a scowl between his eyebrows, jaw clenched when he presses his lips together. “Please, think about how you'd tell her what happened and _realize_ how stupid it sounds. Is she going to break up with you because you groped a character in a game?”

 _An avatar_ , Mark wants to bite out. An avatar that Yukhei controlled and allowed him to feel every sensation. But Mark has no right to blame Yukhei for this: he was the one who initiated the contact, who let his impulses get the best of him and then recoiled into his shell without giving Yukhei a chance to speak.

“When you say it like that-” Mark begins, but words get stuck in his throat.

There's no proper explanation for what he wants to say. What is he supposed to tell Yukhei? His perspective lessens the importance of what happened, but that's the point: to Yukhei, it doesn't have any importance. If Mark dares to insinuate otherwise, he'll jump into a deep well and drown.

“Listen, Mark.” Yukhei takes a long inhale and spins over the sheets, and without a trace of shame, he tugs Mark's wrist and forces him to sit up again. The world tilts in Mark's vision, and when he ends up clinging onto Yukhei for support, Yukhei has to set their glasses aside not to spill water on the bed. “I don't care about what you do in the game, but if this is going to be your attitude afterwards- don't bring it to me. Keep it to yourself.”

Pure embarrassment scratches on Mark's cheeks, a different type of warmth that he hasn't experienced before. He wants to ask if Yukhei is capable of kissing him in-game and continuing with his life as always, but the answer is obvious. They've played games in which they had to take decisions to derail the story in a certain direction, and Mark has never hesitated to choose the most erotic options. It's part of its appeal, and everyone knows that.

Touching Cammy shouldn’t be an issue. But it is.

“No, you're right,” Mark lies, looking up at Yukhei and praying he won't notice the plea in his face. After so many years, Yukhei can read through him like he’s made up of transparent, fragile crystal, but he also knows when to gaze away and respect his privacy. “I won't be that stupid next time, I promise.”

Yukhei's eyes soften in one blow, shoulders slumping and hands carefully landing on Mark's hips. That tells Mark enough, proves that he's forgiven even if Yukhei won't explicitly admit it, and he has to bite on his lower lip to not blabber. He's never been good at important, _adult_ conversations, and given Yukhei's nature, this is a rare occurrence for them. It's not the best time to suffocate their feelings with meaningless chatter.

“I hope so,” Yukhei tells him, cracking a smile at last. Mark mirrors the gesture without thinking twice, and for a few seconds, it feels like every piece fits in the right place. “You were terrible in the game, though, definitely need some practice.”

Mark drops back on the mattress, a blanket of relief over him and a smile tugging at his lips. He rolls on his side as Yukhei changes into his pajamas, and Mark tries _so hard_ not to look at him.

Even though they’ve witnessed every change of their bodies throughout the years, even though he could close his eyes and still play Yukhei’s nakedness under his eyelids, part of him knows that he’d observe Yukhei’s body in a different light tonight. He’d wonder if, just like Mark, he had to jerk off to completion after the game. He’d wonder if Yukhei has done that before with another boy, or if he’d enjoy the real version of their encounter, if Mark could just grab the hem of his jeans and yank him closer for a kiss.

He would formulate too many questions, questions that could alter their childhood memories and transform them into a different story. Maybe the first time Yukhei held his hand in elementary school was innocent, but not platonic. Maybe when they were in high school and Yukhei repeatedly stayed over at his house, Mark slept latched onto him because he needed more than affection. Maybe Yukhei hasn’t gone out with anyone in years because he doesn’t like girls, because he can’t tell his best friend that he prefers being single and then, inside a game, sit on a man and feel his hard cock through the pants.

Mark doesn’t know if this issue is about him, but no matter how much Yukhei tries to push them to the start line, it’s about _them_. As Yukhei slips into bed with him, that’s his only certainty. And when Mark curls his index finger around Yukhei’s thumb and he responds without hesitation, that certainty becomes a roar that deafens every other thought inside Mark’s head.

Separating reality and fiction is harder than Mark imagined.

Every time he crawls into the game, it feels like he's staying forever. He wishes he could stay forever. Fighting bots helps to ease that urge; their eyes are empty and they reciprocate Mark's words with programmed sentences that, however, still make sense. Every detail of the game has been prepared to provide a total immersion, and Mark has to remember that when he stares at a character for too long, or when his gaze fixes where it shouldn't, or all the times he gets mercilessly pinned to the ground and he thinks, for an ephemeral second, about Yukhei.

Mark doesn't meet Yukhei inside the game during the first week, and Yukhei doesn't ask him about it. It's a silent pact of space, space that allows them to act around each other like they have always done.

Mark catches Yukhei online a few times, especially at night, yet they don't greet each other. Sometimes Mark consoles himself with the excuse of playing with Sicheng or Jaehyun, but more often than not, they aren’t online at late hours, and when they are, it's obvious that they're choosing bots or unknown players for a specific reason. It unsettles him that Yukhei might be doing the same – meeting other people inside the game, without ties or uncomfortable conversations that could ruin their lives, but Mark decides to trust that none of this will affect them in the long run.

It's just some sort of transition. A transition that, despite the wait, ends too abruptly for Mark. Two weeks later, when he brings the console to his room because Renjun and Donghyuck want to watch a movie together and _alone_ , he finds a message from Yukhei in his inbox.

It's a harmless _I'll connect at 11_ , but those simple words put Mark's world upside down. Playing with Yukhei shouldn't hold more importance than playing with Jaehyun or Sicheng, he knows that. He also knows that his self-control and his self-esteem are brittle, that he's given signs of weakness even with mere bots, and that the smartest move is locking his door in case he ends up entangled into another mistake.

Lock on, Mark checks the time. It's fifteen minutes to eleven, and his heart seems disposed to suffocate through every single second.

When Mark turns on the game, Yukhei isn't there. He takes some time to adjust the microchip and even a longer time to control his breathing, lowering the connection between the microchip and his body until the game can conceal his nervousness. It's a trick that he hadn't considered before, so he has no idea if it will tweak the experience for the worse.

Yukhei arrives exactly at eleven, his name blinking in Mark's list like a tiny star. Even though Mark doesn't feel all that brave, he slides the invitation towards Yukhei first and chooses Ring of Destiny as scenery. A whole minute passes until Yukhei accepts his invitation.

Everything, from the scenery to their characters, is a mistake.

Cammy stands in front of Yun again, and Mark swallows hard and loud. They're alone. The ring of Destiny is supposed to have a large audience, which would be perfect to keep Mark's head cool, but he's forgotten to activate the option. The arena is a desert, and no one will see or hear them. Now it's too late to change that.

“What did you do to this place?” Yukhei asks right away, twirling around to check the empty arena. Cammy's eyebrows are raised in both skepticism and amusement, and that's all Mark needs to know that Yukhei is assuming the worst.

Voice shaking, Mark retorts, “I didn't realize the audience was off.”

It's not a lie, but it feels like he's lying anyway.

Cammy gazes straight into his eyes, but those are Yukhei’s eyes, and Mark can't shake that sensation of familiarity off. The difference between her bot and the avatar when Yukhei manages it is abysmal, and so is Mark's ability to control himself. Maybe it's the way Yukhei moves Cammy's body, but she looks more attractive now, and Mark inevitably looks down at her body without a second thought.

Yukhei takes a step closer, and the sound of her boots over the floor resonates all over the arena.

“You sure?” Cammy says, sweet, malicious.

Mark glares at Yukhei. This isn't funny, he wants to tell him, but he's unable to string so many words together. Cammy is incredibly hypnotizing and she's coming closer, and closer, and Mark can't breathe anymore.

“I'm sure,” Mark manages to utter, but Yukhei already knows where his mind is drifting to, and before Mark can untie his own thoughts, Yukhei is cornering against him the ropes.

This time, Mark doesn't dare to look at Yukhei's avatar. Despite the physical attraction, the line is blurred and thin, and part of his mind whispers that if he glances at Cammy again, she won't be there anymore. It will be Yukhei. And Mark will still want him.

Yukhei slips a hand under his chin, forcing him to look up, and Mark's heart bobs up to his throat. He feels like vomiting, but it's not a terrible sensation; it's similar to the anxiety of riding a rollercoaster for the first time, of taking the first flight to visit another country, or of the prelude to the first kiss.

The spark in Yukhei's pupils belongs to him, not to Cammy, and so does the care with which he cups Mark's face.

“It's just a game,” Yukhei says, but Cammy's hands feel real on his cheek, and Mark tilts his head into the touch by instinct. “Say it.”

Mark breathes out a weak, “It's just a game.”

And Yukhei is Cammy, a girl. It's like porn. It's not real, it doesn't mean anything for them, just a quick way to get off and have fun.

The first kiss is tentative, just lips against lips and Mark's whole body pulsing with curiosity. There are no fireworks or fairy tales to tell, but then Mark parts his lips and realizes, in awe, that it feels like kissing a real person. Yukhei caresses down his chest and Mark inclines forward, licking into his mouth. Cammy's lips are thick and warm, but that's not what sends a shiver down Mark's spine: it's how quick Yukhei responds to his tongue, how they meet once, twice, until Mark's hand is grasping the back of his head and Yukhei is digging his fingers in his back with desperation.

When Yukhei presses against him, Mark is far away from his own reason. The shape of Cammy against his body devours him, her hips, her thigh slipping between his legs to feel his dick. It's electric, a kind of electricity that doesn't invade only his brain. Both Cammy and Yun have so few clothes on that the friction goes straight to his groin, that he can feel the warmth of her body right onto his dick, and Mark's only response is to grope Yukhei's ass and keep him there, strained against his pants.

Yukhei smiles into the kiss, a heavy breath pushing past his lips, and for an eternity, Mark feels the exhilarating urge of making him smile again.

“Fuck me,” Yukhei whispers against his mouth, sharp and hoarse, his breath tickling Mark's lips.

It's a fantasy, and Mark doesn't want to reject it. This is something they could never do in real life. Mark is never going to fuck Cammy or someone similar to her, because women like that don't exist. This is the reason this game was created this way: so players could fulfill their fantasies without judgment, so that Mark could undo his pants and fuck into the avatar's tightness without consequences. It could be anyone, but it's Yukhei. And Yukhei knows almost all his sexual preferences – from the fantasies he had when he was a teen to the ones he had months ago.

And for some reason, Yukhei isn’t scared of that. His best friend opening his legs for him doesn’t sound deterring to Mark anymore; it sounds like a wonderful idea.

“How?” Mark asks anyway, because he's not sure of how far the game will let him go, or of how far Yukhei himself will be able to go.

Yukhei detaches from him, but his gaze remains fixed on Mark's mouth. That look alone burns Mark's insides like lighted up gasoline.

“It's pretty easy,” Yukhei tells him, lips shining with saliva. Mark doesn't flinch as Yukhei sneaks his hands down his robe, and with a quick movement, undoes Yun's pants. But it's impossible to repress a small hiss as Yukhei tugs his pants down, the thick fabric stroking Mark's hard dick. “You can just do whatever you want.”

At least a dozen possibilities strike across Mark's mind, and he doesn't have the guts to voice any of them.

“Just tell me-” he begins, closing his eyes. He's sure Yukhei must have done this before, and Mark wants to fuck him so bad, but he doesn't want to lead and take the wrong step. “ _What._ ”

Yukhei presses a new, perfect kiss on his mouth, and all of Mark's tension dissipates bit by bit, disintegrates in the determination of Yukhei's kisses.

“Against the ropes,” Yukhei tells him, a subtle order disguised as a plea. And then, lower, he adds, “From behind.”

Under instructions, Mark doesn't hesitate. He grabs Yukhei and spins him around, and before any of them can regret it, Mark is pulling Cammy's leotard to the side. Just the mere brush of Mark’s fingers drags a small noise out of Yukhei, but Mark isn't surprised: even the leotard is wet, and so are his fingers as he strokes between her inner lips. Mark has to swallow down a bunch of questions, but god, he wants to know if this reaction comes from Yukhei or only from his avatar. If it's an automatic reaction or Mark himself caused it.

Mark breathes in Yukhei's nape, taking a moment to calm down. Yukhei's hands are clenched around the highest, but it's the only place where he has accumulated his tension; the rest is calm and ready for Mark, so inviting, so tempting that he hums low in his throat, satisfied.

It's just a couple of seconds, but they're enough to burn Yukhei's patience.

“Mark,” he warns him, pushing his ass back to hurry him up. “Stop thinking.”

The mention of his name breaks the barrier Mark has built, and that's what drives him to grasp Cammy's hips at last and slowly thrust into her. The warning dies on Yukhei's tongue, a long, loud gasp filling Mark's ears as he bottoms out. He's barely conscious of his own groan or of their surroundings, because the whole world blurs around them and only the tightness around his cock remains. It feels like he hasn’t fucked anyone in years, so overwhelming and sweet, a tinge of insanity that could make him come with a couple of strokes.

“Holy shit,” Yukhei moans, thighs trembling, knuckles going white against the ropes. Cammy's voice is tinted with shades of Yukhei's intonation, and Mark's whole being clenches with eagerness.

Mark curses the game too, because unlike the rest of the game, sex doesn't resemble reality. It feels better, wetter, tighter. It doesn't stick to the sensations of real sex: it goes beyond that, straight into Mark's mind until the pleasure in his dick obscures everything else, until the itch of doing this again hits hard and becomes lethal. Cammy’s body is incredible too, and Mark is sure every character is shaped to please them during sex.

This is the reason people get addicted, Mark realizes. Because every thrust into Yukhei is programmed to bring him deeper, to push him closer to his own decay, and it works like a charm.

So Mark slams into Yukhei, mind running in circles around how Yukhei must be feeling his dick for real, inside him, and he hits harder, straining his hips against Cammy's ass. It doesn't matter if Mark is too rough, and Yukhei moans louder at his strength. He won't leave true bruises in the avatar's skin, just like their wounds don't last for long, but for a moment, he wishes he could leave a trail on the avatar and see it on the real Yukhei. That’s the reason he leans against Yukhei's back and kisses his neck, and then he draws a path to the crook of his neck and Yukhei arches in pleasure, surrendering to the proposal.

Mark knew he would. He knows Yukhei has tender spots in his neck, and when Mark sucks a hickey and Yukhei shudders and moans, melting under him, a rush of power navigates through his veins. He sinks his face in a new angle, holds Yukhei harder to keep him in place, one hand on the hips and another on the highest rope to restrain his friends against his chest. Yukhei throws his head back, lips parted, and all of him gives into Mark's pace.

Once Mark lets himself drown in the pleasure completely, he can't stop. And once Yukhei's moans vibrate against Mark's chest, once Yukhei starts fucking himself on Mark's dick with desperation, he doesn't want to stop either.

It isn't ridiculous.

Mark remains frozen on his chair, microchip off and the game stuck on the menu screen, and realizes that this isn't as simple as it seems. It takes him some minutes to understand that even if he came inside Cammy in the game, even if he felt every inch of her insides clenching and pulsing around his dick, in real life he came in his pants. His dirty pants make the transition to reality easier, but also dirtier, scales of shame sparkling on his shield.

Mark admits that explaining the first encounter to Mina would have sounded childish, that she would have laughed at him, but sleeping with Yukhei inside the game doesn't sound that ridiculous anymore. With his pants wet and his heart aching _so good_ in his chest, Mark hasn't felt this alive in years.

It's bad. It's so fucking bad. Panic is subdued under layers and layers of satisfaction, but Mark knows that tomorrow will be different, that shame will take over all the positive sides of sex.

Mark doesn't understand himself. He's never wanted to fuck a man before, he's never wanted to make another man feel good – not this way – and it'd useless to tell himself that it's just because Yukhei's avatar is Cammy. It's not. Deep inside he craves for slithering into the game and doing it again, and again, until his real muscles hurt and he falls asleep out of exhaustion, just bedbound by the orgasms.

Mark's heart is still beating in his ears when someone knocks on his door, so he doesn't hear Jaemin’s steps storming through the hall. He scrambles to turn off the TV, afraid that he'll be caught red-handed, all the clues of his mishap laid out in the open. He shouldn't open the door in this state, but he decides that it's better than ignoring it altogether, since his flatmates will relentlessly insist.

Jaemin peeks into his bedroom with a frown, clear suspicion on his face. Mark doesn't even have time to push him away, but he blocks part of the view with his body, and lets the rest of his body be sheltered by the door, praying that Jaemin won't have the fantastic idea of looking down.

“Donghyuck bought some snacks,” Jaemin announces then, slightly unconvinced by Mark's attitude. “Do you wanna join us?”

Mark wants to go back to the game and bend Yukhei in a hundred different positions. He wants to stop the way his guts are twisting and screaming, and the way the room becomes smaller and smaller around him as Jaemin arches his eyebrows at him.

“I need to take a shower,” Mark muses, and at least that's true. He sends Jaemin a confused look and asks, “You're ruining their date?”

Jaemin pulls a disgusted face, a signal that even if he tried, they wouldn't allow him to ruin anything. They probably dragged him along.

“They don't care if I'm there or not,” Jaemin confirms. “They've been sucking face for the past hour.”

Mark interprets it as a rescue call, and perhaps this is the universe lending him a hand. He needs a distraction from his own thoughts. Dealing with Renjun and Donghyuck might be the perfect emergency door, and Mark won't renounce that.

“Fine,” he accepts, smiling as soon as Jaemin's expression brightens up. “Give me ten minutes.”

After ten minutes squeezed between Donghyuck and Renjun and their long, sweet glances and smiles, Mark realizes this is a ploy.

On the other side of the couch, Jaemin is happily lying and eating chips, and Mark simmers with the betrayal, well aware that he should have imagined it. Donghyuck's fingers sink in Mark's thigh every time he tries to move away from them, and Renjun ends up leaning on his shoulder, contributing to Donghyuck's plans either on purpose or by accident. Either way, Mark is trapped.

Other than proving a point about Mark being judgmental, Mark can’t tell the purpose of hauling his friends into a date. In his defense, anyone would feel uncomfortable in the middle of a budding couple watching a movie, and even more so after fucking his straight childhood friend in a game.

Only when Renjun stands up and announces that he needs a bathroom break, does Mark manage to escape. Donghyuck tugs at his sleeve with a pout and Mark has to lie about being thirsty, but it works to make Donghyuck surrender. Mark stumbles into the kitchen, and by the time he manages to inhale deeply for the first time tonight, he's regretting all his choices. His nervousness is palpable, hard to conceal, and he’s giving his friends a bad impression. He’s afraid his own issues will be interpreted as disgust towards his friends’ relationship, and at the end of the night, Donghyuck will confront him and they will fight.

To his bad luck, Renjun pads into the kitchen just a few minutes later, a curious gaze that reveals his intentions. Since it’s obvious that Donghyuck didn’t send him to fetch Mark, he relaxes. It's just Renjun, and as long as Donghyuck doesn't hear them, he won't take sides.

“Why is Donghyuck punishing me?” Mark whines, rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. Renjun stalls next to him with a smile, and then squeezes Mark's shoulder to console him. “I told him I was okay with- _this_.”

Despite the shade of amusement on his face, Renjun replies, “Because you aren't.”

Before Mark can open his mouth to protest, or maybe to reassure him that he's perfectly fine with their relationship – or whatever it is, since no one knows if they’re serious – Renjun shuts him off.

“Listen, you know what Donghyuck is like,” he says, vaguely waving his hand. “When it comes to his sexuality, he doesn't take hesitation from anyone, and it just so happens that there's hesitation all over you.”

It would be the perfect moment to reveal where that hesitation is coming from, but Mark can't bring himself to do it. Renjun would understand. But Mark is terrified, terrified of his own feelings and the idea that if he materializes his thoughts, they will come alive.

Mark looks at the blue floor tiles, embarrassed and exhausted, and whispers, “I support you two, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Renjun shifts his weight from one foot to another, his hand sneaking down Mark's shoulder. “But something bothers you, and it’s making us uncomfortable too. We can’t read your mind, so it’s easy to assume the worst.”

Surprised, Mark lifts his gaze to meet Renjun's eyes. He's not joking, but his statement isn't a reproach either. It's an invitation to speak with freedom, without Donghyuck getting angry at him just because Mark isn't doing as well as he should.

“You were friends,” Mark points out, much to Renjun's joy. The accusation sounds odd to Mark too, but it's too late to take it back. Mark was friends with Mina before they started dating too, so his doubts regarding that don’t make any sense. That’s why he desperately looks for another reason and mutters, “And I thought you didn't like men.”

Renjun dedicates him a pensive once-over, as if to evaluate what he can tell Mark and what he should keep private.

“I wasn't opposed to the idea of dating men, but I had never been interested in them before?” he tries with a slanted smile. Mark finds some relief in Renjun's vacillation, however, because it means it's a gray area for him, even after his _Donghyuck progress_. It's not a yes or no, now or never. “I'm not going to tell you it was easy. At first I didn't know if I kept thinking about Donghyuck because he made me happy as a _friend_ and I liked spending time with him, or because I was into him.”

That's interesting, and Mark struggles to form the next question, “How did you find out?”

“We fucked,” Renjun plainly answers, very serious. Mark grimaces, grossed out by the mental image, and Renjun bursts into laughter at his response. “What? You asked.”

“I know. My bad.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and Renjun's smile dissolves into calmness, silence sprinkling around them until it’s complete. Mark feels better now. At least he doesn't have to worry about hurting Renjun, and even if he hasn't solved his own doubts yet, Renjun is a possible shoulder to lean on.

After a sharp inhale, Renjun gives his forearm a squeeze and asks, “Everything okay with Mina?”

Mark's heart halts for an eternity, but Renjun's expression doesn't give anything away. It seems to be an innocent question, except Mark knows better, knows that this time, it isn't his paranoia acting up. His façade is becoming transparent, and Renjun can see through it.

Repressing the tinge of distress in his chest, Mark croaks out, “Why are you asking that?”

That's the wrong response, however. Asking about his girlfriend is completely normal – an obligation, almost, because his friends care about him and his happiness. If Renjun formulated that question just to check his reaction, Mark has fallen into his trap.

“Because you want to snoop into my business,” Renjun tells him, softer, tilting his head. “So I'll do the same with yours.”

But Renjun already has his answer, and Mark's silence is the final confirmation.

Months ago, Mark would have smiled and replied right away, and if Renjun had been up for it, he would have spoken about Mina and her funny stories for a whole hour. Tonight, Mark can't even utter a single word about her. He's intoxicated with thoughts of Yukhei against him, with the memory of his moans and the mystery of what they would be like in real life.

Mark has crossed a line, and there’s no turning back.

Yukhei is immutable.

In the game, Mark strips him off the leotard every night and they fuck without hesitation, a different ring each time, a different scenery. On the beach. In temples. In China, in England, in the Antarctic. Mark comes inside him, on his face, on his tongue, on his back. Yukhei changes avatars sometimes, but it's always a woman, some exotic characters with unrealistic proportions that, Mark supposes, are meant to turn him on. It’s evident that’s what Yukhei expects from him, that it’s his little excuse to justify that the whole arrangement works for the both of them.

But one night Yukhei picks a male avatar, claims that he wants to fight for once, and Mark just laughs and pins him against a shop window in the cold streets of London. When Mark takes off his microchip, a hummingbird is fluttering in his ribcage, and his anxious thoughts are covered and drowned by pleasure and satisfaction.

Outside the game, Yukhei is only his friend. They develop new habits, like studying together at the library and then going to the gym together, though most of the time they skip that in favor of taking refuge in the cafeteria next to it. They get drunk on Fridays and Yukhei clings onto him as though he's not twice Mark's size, but Mark is used to carrying him around and fighting his tipsy antics.

They’ve always taken care of each other, and Mark knows that Yukhei needs the outlet, so he doesn’t mind dragging him home every weekend. They don't speak about the game, but Yukhei’s gaze always sparkles with a thousand words, an immovable trust, and the indestructible familiarity of all their years together.

Nothing changes, except for the thrill running in Mark's veins when Yukhei stares at him for too long. Except for the little details Mark notices about Yukhei, the permanent silk on his lips and the deep, blinding warmth in his eyes when their hands graze under the table.

It's inevitable for Mark to avoid Mina. He's not brave enough to come clean and confront her with the truth, but he can't bring himself to stop using the game either. Dumping the whole issue on her without previous warning is unfair, and Mark doesn't want to break her heart, doesn't want to throw away their two years of their relationship like they meant nothing. If he lets Mina leave with the sensation that she's worth nothing because his boyfriend preferred virtual sex to their relationship, then Mark won’t be able to forgive himself.

However, Mark knows that his attempts to hold his old life together are useless. His heart urges him to invite disaster in and observe while everything crumbles, a streak of masochism that he has never experienced. It doesn't matter whether Yukhei will approve or not, whether his friend is merely using him in a game for sex and won't accept a relationship in real life.

If his friends abandon him to fence with his own decisions, Mark won't blame them. Yukhei might be able to pretend, and Mark might put his best façade when they're together, but he doesn't have the courage to share a bed with Mina afterwards, hold her hand or kiss her like he still loves her.

Because he doesn't. And night by night, as he thrusts into Yukhei's avatar and they drown into each other's kisses, Mark grows doubtful he ever loved her.

The fire between Yukhei and him burns his relationship with Mina in a matter of days, and Mark feels so, so pathetic. His desperation consumes him and becomes more evident when, before his first date with Mina in weeks, Mark doesn't want to leave Yukhei's side.

He doesn't even warn Yukhei that he can't stay in the library with him for too long, that he shouldn't have accepted the invitation in the first place. Helping Yukhei with his next exam fills all of Mark's priorities, and he ends up in a private study room, reviewing Yukhei's lessons to make sure he has everything under control.

“Are you hungry?” Yukhei asks him after a couple of hours, sprawled on his chair and legs spread, typing on his phone. Mark is supposed to eat with Mina, and it's the perfect moment to confess that he doesn't even have a reason to be at the library – other than his dose of Yukhei's happiness. But Mark stays silent, tormented, and Yukhei lifts his gaze from the phone to clarify, “Jaehyun is ordering food.”

Mark parts his lips, but no sounds come out. It's logical that Yukei extended the invitation to Jaehyun too, and possibly to Johnny, but that means that Mark is running out of time.

Given his long silence, Yukhei focuses on him, a shade of suspicion floating through his expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, no filter, drawing a harmless, naïve smile.

Mark feels nauseous. He has no choice but to do this – if he goes to his date with Mina and takes the wrong step, Yukhei will be the one softening the fall. He's always been. Whether Mark is doing this for himself or not, Yukhei deserves to know.

So he swallows hard, and letting his voice shatter, confesses, “I’m going to break up with Mina.”

The next second expands between them, folding time and space and defying every rule of the universe. Or perhaps it's just that Mark's heart skips a beat, that his lungs clench and asphyxiate him without mercy, or that he's _so_ afraid of Yukhei's rejection. So afraid he'll laugh at him for renouncing his perfect life just for a chance at something he doesn't even understand.

But all Yukhei mutters is a broken, “What?”

Mark looks away from him. He can't stand the surprise on Yukhei's face, or the confusion, or that tiny spark of awful hope.

“Don’t make me say it twice,” is all Mark manages.

Yukhei sets his phone on the table, and only then Mark notices that his hands are shaking. He becomes so small in front of Mark that it seems impossible. Someone like Yukhei, so full of energy and life, isn't meant to shrink with guilt and nervousness. But Mark is as small and scared as him, and they meet eye to eye for once.

“Are you sure about that?” Yukhei asks, his throat bobbing when he gulps down with difficulty. He searches for the answer in Mark's face, but he's too broken to give Yukhei the reassurance he needs. “You’ve been with her for so long. It’s not just-?”

A bad streak. A bump in their relationship.

“No, I’m not sure.” The ground beneath Mark's feet is unstable, he's aware of that. He's learned that he's not a man of many certainties and that, sometimes, he has to drive without a seatbelt. It's the only solution to this mess now. He'll never hate Mina, he won't ever stop loving her in many complicated and intense ways, yet that isn't enough to stay. “But I had never thought about it before, and if I keep considering it now, it has to mean something.” Mark closes his eyes and muses, “I think.”

For a while, all Mark hears is Yukhei's heavy breathing and the vibration of his phone on the table. Neither of them bothers to check who's messaging Yukhei. It seems so insignificant compared to their conversation, even to their silence, that they could be the only people in the world and they wouldn’t realize.

“Mark,” Yukhei calls him.

Before Mark can open his eyes, he feels the warmth of Yukhei's hand over his. They don't hold hands, but the touch is enough to stabilize Mark, to reassure him that Yukhei won't run away from this problem.

He's always been the brave one, Mark remembers. That's the reason Yukhei's gaze overflows with fondness and understanding, emotions that quiet down the tangible fear underneath: he wants to be Mark's rock even when he needs a hand too.

“Are you not going to give your opinion?” Mark says, torn between disappointment and relief.

The mere question betrays Yukhei, because he has to bite his bottom lip not to spill the truth. Mark knows him too well. That's a sign of self-control.

“It's not for me to decide,” Yukhei whispers, hesitant, as though that's not what he wants to say. He caresses Mark's knuckles with his thumb, and in a burst of honesty, he begins, “But if you do-”

He holds back just in time, but the seed is already planted. Mark looks into his eyes, impatient, his frown deepening. It's not fair that while Mark grants him pure honesty, Yukhei gives him prudence in return.

Raising his chin, Mark has enough determination to demand, “If I do, then what?”

Yukhei doesn't stare at him. He stares at their hands, united over the table, until he seems to find the bravery, or the right words, or their joint chances of loving each other.

“I'll be here,” Yukhei says in the end, and his voice doesn't waver, his hesitation is nothing but dust. It knocks all oxygen from Mark's lungs, but those blank spaces are invaded by adrenaline, and Mark's whole being shakes with the strength of a life-long wait. “I'm not sure either.”

That's how it's supposed to be, however. If they get lost while figuring out what's happening to them, at least they'll be lost together.

Mina doesn't scream at him, but sometimes a look is enough to shatter everything in pieces.

Most of Mark's words are half-truths, because even if he's leaving Mina's life, revealing Yukhei's fault wouldn't bring her anything positive. She asks if he's seeing someone else, Mark denies it. _But there's someone else_ , she reproaches, and he says yes. There has always been someone else, after all.

Mina isn't surprised – their distance has been both emotional and physical, and since Mark has never been a good liar, she caught on long ago. She's still in love with him, and that's the worst part, because Mark can't stay friends with her if it's going to hinder her.

It also means that Mark doesn't have her to support him through the next bunch of bad decisions, and after two years, he's gotten used to discussing all his problems with her first, and only afterwards with his friends. It feels like he's removing one of his layers, like he's more exposed and vulnerable, and still, there's a considerable shift on the heavy weight on his shoulders.

Mark rushes home after their conversation, and when he crosses the door of his apartment and spots Donghyuck in the kitchen, he feels lighter. Words brim on the tip of his tongue, chasing for freedom that Mark; it's liberating to know that he can approach Donghyuck and tell him the truth without fearing the consequences, that he doesn’t have to hide anymore.

And that's what he does. Donghyuck flickers his gaze up as soon as Mark stumbles into the kitchen, eyebrows raised in a silent question, but he doesn't seem to perceive Mark's anxiety.

“We need to talk,” Mark croaks out, throat raspy.

Donghyuck doesn't understand the implications, not at first, and that’s the reason he smiles and jokes, “I've waited my whole life to hear those words.”

Mark can't blame him for the apparent insensitivity – considering their usual arguments, Donghyuck must think Mark has a couple of complaints about the apartment.

There's no point in beating around the bush, so Mark takes a deep inhale and says, “I've broken up with Mina.”

All Donghyuck does for a few seconds is blankly stare at Mark, but there's no shock or judgment, just a long process to understand Mark's words. Then he stands up, strolling around the kitchen table to approach Mark, and sets his hands around his waist.

“Why?” Donghyuck asks him, coming closer, like it's a secret.

This carefulness encourages Mark: Donghyuck can feel that this is important, that it isn't a regular break-up. He wonders if Renjun has told him about the conversation from weeks ago, if both Jaemin and Donghyuck have been ruminating Mark's future for a while.

“Because of Yukhei,” Mark admits, all the tension in his chest dwindling in one blow.

And it feels so good. So good to confirm out loud that's the reason of his breakdown. It feels even better when Donghyuck nods at him, taking the news without flinching, and leads him to the couch, his food long forgotten on the kitchen table.

Mark sinks on the couch with him, and the first thing Donghyuck does is hugging him. It's strange: Mark isn't aware of how much he needs it until Donghyuck is crushing him with all his strength, but he melts between Donghyuck's arm within an instant.

From then on, it's scarily easy to spill all his worries. It's the first time Mark has the chance to explain the whole story, and there's no one better to listen than Donghyuck. Mark owes him an explanation, and Donghyuck understands his attitude once Mark's insecurities are exposed. Even if Donghyuck controls his expression better than Mark could ever dream of, there's a couple of smiles here and there when Mark talks about his sex encounters with Yukhei, but he supposes that the concept of sex inside a fighting game is quite hilarious.

“First of all, I'm borrowing the game tonight,” Donghyuck tells him, much to his surprise. Mark is too confused to argue, so he gives Donghyuck a shrug and admits the grin Donghyuck shoots at him. “You're not in a game anymore, so you can’t just restart everything you do. Everyone knows that you and Yukhei have a connection, yeah? We thought you were dating when you first introduced him to us, but even now, that doesn't mean you have to force yourself to make it work.”

That's a perspective that Mark hadn't even grazed. The idea of failing Yukhei and himself has crossed his mind, but he reckoned that forcing things between was the natural path to take. Maybe it isn’t. Renjun and Donghyuck are the perfect example: they just happened. And in many ways, his feelings for Yukhei happened without effort too.

“Baby steps,” Donghyuck continues, reading his silence. “Want to try kissing him? Then do. Maybe it will be like in the game and you'll want more, or maybe you'll back off and decide you don't like it.”

That’s a very plausible outcome, and Mark recoils in himself. After all, the game alters the experience and, even though Mark has come to terms with the fact that his favorite part is to know that he’s pleasing Yukhei on the other side, kissing Yukhei could be different. That doesn’t assure that it will be worse.

“And if I don’t like it-” Mark breathes out, sending Donghyuck a wary look. He has the impression that Donghyuck was ready for this conversation, that he’s even rehearsed his words. “Then what?”

Donghyuck blinks at him, trying to decipher what Mark wants to know.

“He's your friend first and foremost,” Donghyuck reminds him. “And if he’s stayed with you all this time, even while you had a girlfriend, rejecting him won't damage your relationship.”

In the past few years, Mark has gotten used to all those jokes about them being in love, but now, as he looks into Donghyuck’s eyes and at his absolute lack of surprise, he realizes they weren’t jokes.

They’ve always been in love – a sort of love that could have been romantic or platonic, but that was undeniable. If Mark kisses Yukhei tonight and he doesn’t feel that blazing spark within, he will still love him like the first day.

Mark gives himself some space, some solitude, but Yukhei is a constant vibration in the back of his head.

Apart from Donghyuck, he doesn’t speak to anyone about what happened, but Donghyuck spreads the news for him. Jaemin checks up on him that evening, questions in his pupils but not in his mouth, and Mark indulges his urge of taking care of him.

Yukhei texts him a few minutes later, but Mark needs some time away from him, and he just replies with a reassuring message and the promise of meeting tonight. They planned one of their nights out with Johnny and Jaehyun, and Mark can’t cancel without giving a whole explanation about the break-up. Sooner or later all his friends will want to hear the reasons, but Mark doesn’t intend to do that tonight; if Johnny and Jaehyun find out, their first reaction will be getting him drunk, and that’s not what Mark wants.

He doesn’t want to drink the night away. He wants to sit next to Yukhei and feel the hidden ardor between them, like it’s any other night, like nothing has changed, and forget that he’s thrown half of his life down the drain for a chance that might go wreck.

But none of that matters when he arrives at the bar, swallowed by his coat, and spots Johnny and Yukhei at their usual table. There’s no trace of Jaehyun there, and Mark wants to laugh at the fact that he’s not the one late tonight – perhaps because he was dying to see Yukhei again, and would have come to the bar much sooner if it wasn’t for his own nervousness.

Yukhei recognizes him when Mark is still in the middle of the bar, the corner of his lips rising at the mere sight of him. It’s a subtle gesture, but it’s enough for Johnny to notice the distraction, so soon Mark is being greeted with wide grins and a few pats on the back. He ignores Johnny’s invitation and sits on Yukhei’s side instead, which gains him a clearly teasing look from their friend. Yukhei laughs at him too, but welcomes him and wraps an arm around his waist, bringing him closer over the seat.

Jaehyun arrives just a few minutes later, and neither he nor Johnny finds their reticence to drink odd. After a couple of drinks Mark stops altogether, pressing his cheek against Yukhei’s arm and laughing at all the jokes Johnny spits, one after another. Yukhei seems to find his reactions funnier than the jokes, and Mark revels in his crinkled up eyes and the endearment on his face. Maybe it’s always been there, but Mark doesn’t remember. It’s been a long time since they last were so calm and content around each other.

Yukhei doesn’t have to ask. When Jaehyun and Johnny leave their table to get another round of drinks, he cradles Mark’s nape and looks down at him with a hint of concern.

“You good?” Yukhei whispers, lowering his voice even if they’re alone.

“Yeah.” Mark licks his lips, jittery at the anticipation in Yukhei’s pupils. He’s just broken up with his girlfriend; he shouldn’t be _good_ , he shouldn’t brush it off, and he can’t tell Yukhei that he’s fine just because they’re together, because they’re free to explore as many paths as they want. But Yukhei knows that, that and more, without needing an explanation. “She didn’t take it well, but- I didn’t expect her to.”

Details aren’t necessary, at least not for Yukhei. Whether it’s because he’s partly responsible or because it’s Mark’s privacy, he threads carefully, rubbing Mark’s nape as he chooses his next question.

“Did you tell her the truth?”

“Kind of. I didn’t tell her about you,” Mark admits, and Yukhei lifts his eyebrows in shock, as though acknowledging them wasn’t a step he had imagined they’d take so early. Mark is sure that he made the right decision regardless: throwing at Mina the possibility of her boyfriend not being straight and, on top of that, being into his best friend as an excuse for a break-up would have been horrible. She had already intuited that his mind was on someone else, and that’s why Mark adds a timid, “But I think she knows.”

Yukhei nods at that and, troubled, looks away. His grasp on Mark’s nape shakes, but it’s still full of determination, like he doesn’t want to back off.

“Mina never liked me that much,” Yukhei muses, pensive. Even though that’s not the complete truth, Mark doesn’t contradict him. Mina tolerated Yukhei because he made Mark happy, because it’d have been selfish to break their friendship out of jealousy. Now that they’ve reached this point, Mark understands her insecurities. So does Yukhei. “I guess she was right after all.”

Mark’s first knee-jerk reaction is to console Yukhei, but he holds back for a very specific reason. Those suspicions weren’t unfounded, those suspicions were justified and had a whole trail of clues to follow; Mark was the only one ignoring them. Even Jaemin and Donghyuck were ready and waiting for the _fall_.

His gaze wanders over Yukhei’s resigned expression, and he wonders, for the first time, if Yukhei gave him the game on purpose. If he was thrilled and shocked that Mark initiated intimacy first, or if deep within he’d always known Mark could be interested in men, in _him_.

That risky question dances on the tip of his tongue, and those couple of drinks he had give him the last push.

“When did you realize?”

Yukhei meets his eyes, trapping his bottom lip under his teeth. Mark’s outburst of curiosity is the signal he was looking for, but after all the secrets they’ve put between them, Mark understands that it’s not that simple to break the barrier.

“I didn’t realize,” Yukhei answers, against all odds. Unable to follow his logic, Mark tilts his head to take a better look at Yukhei’s expression. Despite how serious he is, Yukhei dedicates him a knowing smile and clarifies, “It was a hunch that I couldn’t confirm because I was too scared.”

That’s an emotion that Mark relates to, but for him it’s a recent development. Yukhei seems to have fenced with it for much longer.

“Okay, then when did you have the first hunch?” Mark insists, spinning on his seat so that Yukhei can’t dodge his inquisitive eyes.

Yukhei doesn’t intend to dodge his question anyhow. When he settles a hand on Mark’s thigh, it becomes palpable how much their relationship has changed. What was a friendly gesture before makes Mark’s hairs stand on end now, every inch of his body thumping with want. It’s still strangely familiar, perhaps because it’s accompanied with the comfort of Yukhei’s brown eyes, or because this would be a normal night out if it wasn’t because Mark wants to hold Yukhei’s hand under the table.

“When we were seventeen,” Yukhei confesses, without an ounce of shame.

Those words are magical: Mark’s insides roar with memories, with the way Yukhei used to smile when he was seventeen, with how, back then, they had always believed they would be together their entire lives.

Mark had deemed it a miracle, but it was determination and sacrifice. If Yukhei had wanted him at seventeen, only adoration could have kept him tied while Mark lived his own life – not because he might have had feelings for Mark all this time, but because he also had to hide his sexuality from him.

Beneath the mixture of impatience and lust, Mark feels a burst of bitterness. This isn’t Yukhei’s fault, it’s his. He doubts Yukhei would have ever confessed the slight chance of liking him, not while Mark never talked about boys. He didn't even consider them.

“We were at Yeji’s birthday party and you were so hung up on her at the time,” Yukhei continues, taking his silence as permission to speak. He lifts his head, the lights of the bar casting a beautiful game of shadows over his features. His smile doesn’t transmit happiness, and that’s enough to break Mark. “You used to look at her like she was the reason you woke up every day, you know? And I just thought, I wished you’d look at me like that too.”

Mark doesn't even remember how he looked at Yeji, if she was pretty or kind, or if he truly had a crush on her. He doesn't care either. All he can focus on is the reminiscent spark in Yukhei's eyes, in how much he wishes he could go back and meet Yukhei's gaze in that birthday party with the knowledge he holds now. Maybe if he had looked for longer, maybe if he had taken a second to read through Yukhei's feelings, he'd have perceived the subtle changes in his friend.

He's wasted so much time, Mark realizes, following a manual, always being cautious and careful, that for once he entertains his first impulse. And it's an impulse so solid and clear, that feels so right, that it can't go wrong.

He cups Yukhei's face, softly guiding him to face each other, and bathes in his blissful ignorance. Mark can tell that Yukhei doesn't expect the kiss, because he goes still as soon as Mark leans forward and presses their lips together for a taste. It's innocent, like a first time, like their first time. Somehow it's exactly that for Mark: an attempt that could go wrong or right, that could change his life forever or ruin a friendship that was supposed to last forever.

Except it doesn't. Yukhei's lips are soft and warm, and the mere sensation of fusing their mouths together sends a rush of adrenaline down Mark's spine. The game can't compete against a rushed kiss in a bustling bar, or against the comfort of Yukhei's hand on the back of his head, lingering, silently asking if Mark wants more.

Mark wants so much than words won't be enough, so he fists the front of Yukhei's shirt and pulls him closer, forgetting that they're in public and that their friends might come back any moment. Getting caught seems so insignificant; there's no room for regrets anymore, not after he's molded against the curve Yukhei's lips, or after he's swallowed the small gasp of satisfaction that escapes his mouth.

It feels like sipping on insanity. He deepens the kiss without fear, their tongues softly bumping midway, and a moan rumbles in his throat. That's what shoots him back into reality: impatience that thunders from his mouth to his guts, and one second later unfurls into his groin.

Mark retreats with an enchanted sigh, lips hot and wet, and Yukhei instinctively chases after his mouth before realizing that Mark is trying to break their moment. It makes both of them smile in embarrassment, but Mark indulges him and gives him a closing, final peck.

“Woah,” Yukhei mutters, befuddled, glassy eyes stuck on Mark's lips.

Mark shies away and drowns into his seat, but he doesn't mind how persistent Yukhei's gaze is. If he was as brave as Yukhei is, he'd stare at his red lips for the rest of the night, no matter how overwhelming their kiss was or how Mark could be happy for the rest of his life without anything else.

“Yeah,” Mark breathes out, agreeing, and then he laughs out loud – a bubble bursting inside him, that sprinkles on Yukhei until it's contagious and he's letting out a low, affected laugh. “Maybe we should leave Jaehyun and Johnny alone.”

Only out of the corner of his eyes does Mark catch the incredulous shade cracking across Yukhei's face. But he isn't disposed to take that offer back. He trusts that Yukhei will only go as far as Mark lets him, and luckily for the both of them, he doesn't intend to set any limits tonight.

Mark sees the same world, but this time, it's colored with a whole new palette.

When he drops on the bed and Yukhei hastily climbs over him, Mark's world pulses in shades of red. It used to be gray, black and white. Yukhei’s walls used to be a dirty white, and the lamp hovering over them used to be a dirty yellow, but today everything is drowned in a comforting orange. The light prints red spots under Mark’s eyelids when he blinks, when Yukhei groans into his mouth and it feels like they’re burning each other nerve by nerve.

He's been in Yukhei's bedroom a thousand times, but his lips weren't covered in kisses and his jeans weren't unbuckled, and most importantly, Yukhei didn't have an erection. Mark thumbs at his own world and laughs on the bed, red blood rushing through his muscles and the visceral pulse of a heavy make-out session that inevitably leads them beyond.

The memory of doing this inside the game is ingrained in Mark’s insides, but the microchip’s potency can't compare to the real Yukhei. Even though it’s the same boy kissing him, Yukhei kisses better in real life, encouraged by the sight of Mark under him. He also has enough practice on Mark to know his weak spots – their familiarity erases the traces of nervousness and clumsiness, because even if they haven't touched each other skin to skin, they've already explored their bodies to the last detail.

When Mark shyly pulls at the band of Yukhei's jeans, Yukhei just presses a kiss on the corner of Mark's mouth and whispers, “I feel like I'm in a dream.”

That confession gets under Mark's skin, comforting and heart-fluttering, and that's the reason he decides to break it with a joke.

He lifts his hand to Yukhei's forehead, brushing his hair away, and teases him, “Maybe you have a fever.”

Considering both of them are blushing and breathless, Yukhei can't help but laugh at his comment. Mark feels feverish too, however, like the world will collapse around him if Yukhei licks into his mouth again.

“Yeah, definitely,” Yukhei agrees with a heavy sigh, pliant, before falling onto his elbows and fusing with Mark in a long kiss. It's still odd for Mark to feel Yukhei's tongue all over his lips, but it draws a needy groan out of him, it makes him yearn for more, and neither of them is embarrassed when Mark automatically presses his hand against the tent in Yukhei's pants. He’s never touched any man like this, Mark realizes, but the thrill vibrates under his skin. Yukhei makes a little noise in the kiss, and then detaches just enough to mutter, “Are you sure about this?”

Mark understands why Yukhei feels the need to ask. He's just gotten out of a relationship, and he doesn't want to be a rebound or to take advantage of Mark; perhaps if this had happened one month ago, Mark would have needed some time before jumping into Yukhei's bed, but it's not the case. He's been ready for longer than he can remember, and all his blood is between his legs rather than in his brain. That’s the good thing with Yukhei: he can allow himself not to think twice.

“I want you so much,” Mark mutters, softening his tone not to sound desperate. Yukhei bites his lower lip, a distraction that catches Mark's attention for a second, and then relief washes over him. “That isn't going to change.”

It's evident that Yukhei is too stunned to come up with an answer, so he merely sinks his face in Mark's neck and kisses there. Mark has the urge to caress Yukhei's hair and bring him closer, but instead he makes an effort to tug Yukhei's jeans down, to rush their movements a bit. Even if Yukhei'r roommates aren't home yet, and Mark is too riled up to care about getting caught, he can't wait for Yukhei anymore.

“You're so hot,” Yukhei mutters against his neck, the ghost of a smile stretching on Mark's skin. His chest inflates at that, and then he groans, “God, I've wanted to tell you that for so fucking long.”

Mark lets out a strained, embarrassed laugh at that, but the compliment shoots a trail of shivers down his spine. It’s easy to hide his reaction, since Yukhei is busy arching his body so that Mark can slip his pants down, oblivious, and then he sits on his heels to get rid of his shirt too.

Mark doesn't even have to stare at Yukhei's body – he's seen him naked so many times that he could paint him with his eyes closed. He’s familiar with the volume of his arms and chest, the toughness of his thighs, and his thick dick. And perhaps Mark hasn’t stopped to consider that before, but the mere idea of Yukhei’s dick inside him makes him salivate, makes his body clench with impatience. He’s willing to take the leap and test both of their limits. Mark doesn't know how much he can take, but if Yukhei gets considerably bigger when he's hard, then it's going to be a show.

“Take it off,” Yukhei tells him, yanking at his boxers and his shirt without shame. His gaze hungrily roams over Mark's thighs, a hand curling beneath one of them and the other reaching for something on his bedside table. “Want to see you.”

Mark barely feels his own hands as he strips for Yukhei. He's so hard that he hisses at the feeling of the fabric against his dick, and even though Yukhei is rummaging in the bedside table, he halts and spares him an interested glance.

They don't need to speak to know that Mark doesn't want to fuck into Yukhei tonight; that's what they've done in the game a hundred times, and they’re not in the game anymore. This is real. Mark would give up his whole honor just for Yukhei to put him on all fours and feel an ounce of those orgasms Mark gave him inside the game. It's payback, and Mark needs it now.

When Yukhei slips between his legs, he's holding the lube, and Mark immediately notices that it’s not the first time he's used it. Yukhei could have opened the lube for masturbating, but in the past few weeks he merely had to slip into a game and fuck Mark for a better experience, so Mark doubts it.

“You've done this before,” Mark observes, trailing a hand over Yukhei’s hard thigh, hoping it won't come off as an accusation.

To his surprise, Yukhei nods, but he caresses over Mark's abdomen as if to soothe him. It's a bit embarrassing that Mark's dick twitches even when Yukhei isn't directly touching it, but Yukhei doesn't make fun of him.

“Just once,” Yukhei admits, like it's not a big deal. Mark doesn't want to pry, but questions inevitably run through his mind. Did Yukhei fuck another guy to replace him, or did he do it just because he truly wanted to? He can’t even bring himself to feel jealousy, not with Yukhei on top of him, his gaze hungrily roaming over the exposed bits of his body. “I'm not that much more experienced than you.”

Mark represses his response, because when it comes to this, Yukhei might be years ahead of him. While Yukhei is the first man Mark has felt attracted to, Yukhei has had more time to explore that – Mark hasn’t even watched gay porn, and he’s lucky to have Yukhei to handle him now. When he fucked inside the game and both of them were men, the game was programmed for it too. It was easy to slide into Yukhei, it was easy to make him come.

“What do you want me to do?” Mark mutters, face flushing as soon as Yukhei grabs both of his legs and pushes them apart and up. It’s incredibly strange for Mark to expose himself this way, and Yukhei grants him a long, appreciating look that unfurls all of Mark’s shame within a second. He mutters, “Okay.”

Perhaps he looks good like this, Mark supposes, all open and sprawled for Yukhei and blushing pink at the mere thought of being _wanted_. But Yukhei looks much better than him, in Mark’s opinion, when he indulges Mark’s curiosity and slips his black underwear down at last. He watches out for Mark’s reaction, and though Mark can feel Yukhei’s eyes trained on his face, all his attention is absorbed by Yukhei’s hard dick slightly curving against his stomach. Definitely bigger than Mark imagined, definitely _better_.

By the time Mark manages to peel his gaze away from Yukhei’s dick, Yukhei has settled between his legs with a broken smile and jittery hands, either from impatience or from nervousness. He spills some lube on his hands and then, very slowly, wraps his hand around Mark’s cock.

Mark throws his head back, eyes close shut, the heavy weight of Yukhei’s hand spreading a delicious tension up and down his dick. He was too fixed on Yukhei’s dick to remember that Yukhei’s hands are incredibly big too, and Mark is so hard and swollen that a few pumps have him heavily breathing through his mouth. It’s irksome that Yukhei is so good at this, fingertips pressing on the exact spots and his free hand softly fondling under Mark’s balls – it’s so unnecessary, too, to insist until Mark lets out a chain of soft moans.

Yukhei laughs low in his throat, and Mark only has a few seconds to adjust before realizing his intentions: Yukhei is fisting his own dick, pushing Mark’s thighs even farther away to fit against Mark. For a moment Mark has the crazy idea of letting Yukhei fuck him without lube or relaxing him first, but that’s not what Yukhei is looking for. Without shame, Yukhei presses against Mark’s ass and fists both of their dicks together and, gaze drinking up from Mark’s expression, jerks the both of them with one hand.

Their surroundings flicker around Mark like a broken light bulb, pleasure so overwhelming that he can’t utter a coherent word, only a long, high-pitched groan.

“God,” Mark hears himself say. “God, that’s hot.”

“Is it?” Yukhei retorts, mildly amused.

But Yukhei isn’t laughing anymore. He devours Mark with his eyes, bending forward until their foreheads are leaning against each other. His warm breath strokes Mark’s lips, makes Mark’s stomach twist at how breathless Yukhei looks too.

It’s unimaginable that his childhood friend is doing this to him, that he’s hard for him, that he has the power to throttle Mark’s reason and dismount all of his life schemes in one night. Their dicks are slick and smooth against each other, he can feel his own veins against the hard cords of Yukhei’s dick, and Mark doesn’t remember if he’s been so turned on in his entire life.

“Yukhei,” Mark calls him, not sure if he manages to pronounce his name right. The tension in his balls is awfully familiar, and all the sensations are so new that he wouldn’t be surprised if he came just with the pressure of Yukhei’s hand and his dick. “Enough.”

Yukhei understands the message, so he pecks his lips once before loosening his grip and letting go. If Mark thought he was feverish before, now he feels like a mere peck will break the floor beneath them.

“This is going to feel- weird,” Yukhei warns him, pushing Mark’s hair behind his ear. It’s an intimate detail that makes Mark’s heart flip with contentment, and encouraged by Yukhei’s fondness, he doesn’t hesitate to steal another kiss, meeting Yukhei in a lewd, open-mouthed kiss. When he draws away, Yukhei is so drunk on their kiss, panting, that he needs a moment to collect his words. “Unless you’ve fingered yourself before.”

“I haven’t,” Mark admits. The possibility didn’t cross his mind, not even after fucking Yukhei as a male in the game. “Don’t back out now, though.”

The teasing pulls a frantic smile out of Yukhei. “I wouldn't. You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this.”

Mark doesn't, and perhaps now it's the perfect moment to ask, as Yukhei roams his hands down his ass, spreading the lube between his legs with a discretion that Mark doesn't miss. He appreciates that Yukhei tries to distract him with small kisses on his neck, but it's impossible not to focus on Yukhei's fingers playing around his rim. There’s no trace of vacillation in Yukhei’s movements: he knows what he’s doing, and he knows where and how he needs Mark.

“When you gifted me the game,” Mark begins, voice faint, “had you thought about fucking me there?”

It's a doubt that Mark needs solved – he wouldn't hold it against Yukhei, but the gift would make more sense if it was meant to push Mark's limiting thoughts away. He vaguely remembers Jaemin's words about Yukhei wanting to sleep with him when Mark told them it was a gift from him.

“It was you who started it.” Yukhei halts and smiles at him, mildly surprised at the question. Taking advantage of Mark's attention, Yukhei pushes the first finger against his rim; only the tip makes Mark gasp, so Yukhei doesn't thrust deeper and limits to massaging him with the lube. “But I was always thinking about fucking you, Mark, either outside or inside the game.”

Yukhei's finger travels further inside him, and Mark fists the sheets, shaking at the intrusion. It doesn't hurt, but it's such a novelty that he can't help but tense up.

“You're so romantic,” he groans, just barely remembering what Yukhei was talking about.

“Relax,” Yukhei whispers, sweet, collected. He caresses the inside of Mark's thigh to reassure him, and repeats, “Come on, relax.”

Mark tries to, inhaling deep and long, but he's sure that he won't completely relax tonight. His nerves are on edge, and that's a good thing, that's a sign that he _cares_.

But Yukhei measures his boundaries better than himself, and on the third attempt, he steadily shoves his middle finger inside Mark. Mark sees white spots in his vision, clenching around Yukhei's finger even though that makes it harder for the both of them. It isn’t bad. It’s intrusive, but sweet.

“That's right,” Yukhei tells him anyway, a hint of encouragement in his voice. He gazes at Mark's stunned face, at his slightly parted lips and the mute moan that never comes out, and praises him, “Pretty.”

Mark nearly laughs at that, but he doesn't know whether it's out of embarrassment or pure happiness. Yukhei seems content with his reaction, and he doesn't slow down, a bit more confident. Being full of Yukhei's fingers is a strange feeling, but Mark can't conceal how his dick twitches every time Yukhei touches him right, tiny flashes of warmth expanding through his body.

By the time Yukhei is three fingers in and up to his knuckles, Mark doesn't care whether he's making a ruckus or not. The tiny parts of discomfort melt into pleasure, and soon Yukhei's fingers aren’t enough for him, at least not enough to make him come. All he can do to inform Yukhei is gripping his forearm, carefully sinking his nails so that Yukhei receives the warning.

“Ready?” Yukhei asks him in a whisper, flicking his eyes to Mark’s face for an answer.

He’s almost down to his elbows again, and when Mark nods a bit too enthusiastically, Yukhei kisses his hipbone as a reward. The feeling of being stretched was unfamiliar, but Mark can’t even measure how hard the loss of contact hits him. Even if Yukhei pulls out slowly, Mark still grumbles at the warmth of his insides closing all at once, and Yukhei sends him an entertained look.

“Come here,” Yukhei ushers him, voice hoarse. Mark can't follow his orders, but Yukhei encircles his waist and pulls him up, guiding him onto his lap. It takes Mark a long second to understand what Yukhei is asking for, the ephemeral cheeky grin on his lips and the slightly arrogant posture as he sits on his palms. “Don't want to do all the work.”

It's fair, and Mark is grateful that he's so utterly gone at this point that the prospect of riding Yukhei doesn't intimidate him. Yukhei's dick stands hard and swollen, neglected, and as Mark meets his gaze, it's evident how painful the wait has been for him. Mark hasn't had the chance to touch him yet, apart from a few caresses over the clothes, and this is all he can do to please the both of them.

“I've never-” Mark starts, an excuse that dwindles right as it emerges.

Yukhei interrupts him, “It doesn't matter.”

Both of them know that. Yukhei shakes his head, sneaking his hands and holding Mark's ass to help him straddle his lap. Mark stands on his knees, almost eye to eye with Yukhei since he's taller, and surrenders to Yukhei’s mouth with a sigh.

It's just a second, but the touch of Yukhei's lips soothes Mark's insecurities. It doesn’t matter, not to Yukhei, if Mark is clumsy, if he wants to stop midway or if he changes his mind about them.

When Mark grips his shoulders, Yukhei is staring at him with an eagerness that drills into his deepest instinct. He lowers on Yukhei's dick, not aware of what he's doing until Yukhei fists his own dick and leads himself into Mark, and both of them groan in unison. The tip of Yukhei's dick stretches Mark's rim right away, and the last logical thought Mark processes is that this is going to be way different than a couple of fingers.

“Holy shit, slower,” Yukhei groans, much to Mark's surprise. He holds onto his ass so hard that Mark whines, but it's a delight to see the overwhelm painting Yukhei's chiseled face. Mark obeys, dropping slower, giving both of them time to adjust; Yukhei hums in appreciation, but he still accuses him, “You're a menace.”

The burn of Yukhei's dick filling him up leaves no room for answer. Mark opens his mouth to retort, but even the slight discomfort of being stretched adds up to the pleasure, and Yukhei's hands on his cheeks feel so big and demanding that he goes all the way down.

Yukhei raises his hips to fuck into him deeper, and it’s then that Mark falls into realization: he’s letting Yukhei fuck him, just to bathe in the absolute pleasure that crosses his expression once he’s tied inside him.

“You feel so fucking amazing,” Yukhei says, voice only a groan as he gazes at Mark.

There's a clear shade of adoration in the way Yukhei looks at him, and when Mark shyly breaks eye contact, he swears he can physically feel Yukhei's dick harden inside him. He sways his hips forward to confirm it, and Yukhei tenses up all over, a sigh of delight between his lips.

Except for how good it feels, it's easy for Mark to build a pace, and Yukhei's grasp on his ass accelerates the lesson. It’s even easier because he can latch onto Yukhei’s shoulders and the back of his head while they kiss, so Mark lets go of the last traces of shame and fucks himself on Yukhei like he would have done if they'd met in the game. It was then when Mark allowed himself to unfurl his truest wishes, and that's what they need now.

Yukhei is playful, but also impatient, and sometimes he thrusts up into him too hard or too fast, and Mark loses his balance. They smile against each other's lips when one of them goes too hard, tempting this new way of getting to know each other, but they discover the little secrets between them, even those secrets that they hide from themselves. In a matter of minutes it's evident that Mark has an obsession with Yukhei's thick lips, and judging how Yukhei clings onto his ass, Mark suspects he might have a small fixation too.

But he lets Yukhei grope him, revels in the small gasps that drop from his lips as Mark clenches around him. Mark doesn't do it on purpose, doesn't even try to rile him up; the tightness of his ass and his eagerness are enough for Yukhei, and when he can't take him anymore, Mark finds himself pinned back on the bed.

It happens in a blur. Yukhei doesn't pull out, just thrusts into him deeper, and Mark has to hold onto his back and wrap his legs around Yukhei's hips to balance him. Yukhei hits him in a different angle, and what was pleasure before now becomes a spot of blinding bliss that makes Mark's whole body thrum.

“Wanna come in you,” Yukhei whispers, so broken that his desperation drags Mark along. Mark only feels his own dick pulse, orgasm on edge, and Yukhei ending with a, “Please.”

Mark can't form a single word, so he just holds Yukhei in place with so much strength that it's impossible for him to disregard the permission. It's a magical trick. Yukhei sinks his face in the crook of his neck, all his weight on him, and the last brush against Mark's nerves is what makes his orgasm explode.

It lasts an eternity, Yukhei's moaning on his skin, the both of them tightening until the first wave of pleasure hits them with full force. It takes Mark a few seconds to realize that Yukhei has one hand around his dick, that it's the reason his orgasm swept him so hard, and then Yukhei collapses on him without previous warning.

“God,” is all Mark can utter, breathing through his mouth for some air. He blinks to clear his sight, but the remainders of pleasure turn the world into a constant blur. “That was-”

Better than anything they’ve done before. Better than all those times they fucked in Crystal Beach, or in the Ring of Misery, or in a futuristic military base. All those sceneries are meaningless; feeling Yukhei against him, inside him, his real skin and his real passion, is Mark’s favorite part, and no game will be able to erase that.

“Yeah,” Yukhei agrees, no need for words.

They roll together onto their sides, still entangled, and Mark swears the room around them slants. It’s hot and sticky both under his skin and around him, and a combination of exhaustion and satisfaction blankets over them.

Yukhei grants him a tired, sincere smile, with an air of shyness that is nothing but a scam, since he pecks Mark’s lips and whispers, “Give me ten minutes. We’re doing this again.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/renjucas)   
>  [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/berryboys)   
> 


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